


Hockey?

by XxPurpleStars3xx



Series: The Son of Chadam [1]
Category: Mighty Ducks (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-10-16
Packaged: 2018-08-22 15:54:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8291626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxPurpleStars3xx/pseuds/XxPurpleStars3xx
Summary: Adam and Charlie's son, Dwayne, asks his fathers why he wasn't put/forced into hockey since his parents love it so much. His question brings up some memories about Chadam's own hockey experiences.





	

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Mighty Ducks.

Dwayne Banks-Conway looked at his father, Charlie Banks-Conway, cooking dinner and his other father, Adam Banks-Conway, coming back from his NHL Ducks hockey practice.

After graduating from Eden Hall, Adam got drafted to the North Stars, and then, two years later, was drafted to the Anaheim Ducks. He and Charlie had gotten together during sophomore year when Charlie had broken up with Linda and realized that he was in love with Adam, who had been in love with him since the beginning of freshman year. Charlie had also made the Stars that year, but didn’t get to the NHL. He had decided to become a coach for the local hockey league, getting a job as quick as he applied. After all, everybody wanted the mighty Ducks, whether they coached, played NHL, or played in a local men’s or women’s league. Adam and Charlie were the only ones who wanted to play it forever. The others thought of it as more of a hobby. He and Adam had gotten married and moved to California when Adam made it to the Ducks. Two years later, they had adopted Adam, when he was one.

All of the Ducks still kept in touch. Some even named their kids after each other. Guy and Connie named their nine-year-old Julie. Julie and her husband had named their boy Lester, and so on.

“Dad?” Dwayne called to Charlie as he looked up from his homework. Charlie looked over to his nine-year-old son in the living room from the open kitchen. “Daddy?”

He called Charlie “Dad” and Adam “Daddy”. He knew as he got older “Daddy” would have to change. A fifteen-year-old should not be calling his father that.

“Yeah?” his two fathers called, looking to each other and laughed as they unisoned. Dwayne had grown up on the stories of his fathers’ love story. How they lived and breathed hockey, how they had hated each other when they were ten, up until they fell in love. He rolled his eyes.

“I was talking to Connie Reed yesterday,” Dwayne said.

“Oh, yeah?” Adam asked, putting his bag down and going to kiss his husband, who, instinctively, moved away from his husband’s sweaty body. “How’s she and her parents doing?”

“Good. She’s playing hockey.”

Charlie and Adam looked at each other. They knew this day would come where he would ask to play hockey. They knew they would already say that he could play, but they wouldn’t force him to play.

“Oh?” Charlie said.

“Yeah, Uncle Fulton was kind of pushing her to play in her Chicago league. Apparently, she’s got his kind of shot.”

“Ooh,” Adam and Charlie said.

“She breaking windows like her father?” Charlie asked, stirring the pasta sauce. Adam tried to stick his finger into the boiling pot. Charlie slapped it away. “That’s really gross.”

“That’s a love tap,” Adam said, and then subconsciously looked at his right wrist again, remembering that Iceland game.

Charlie looked at his husband. “Does it ever still hurt?”

Dwayne looked at his two dads looking Adam’s right wrist. He saw the love between the two. He couldn’t imagine what they had to go through when they came out.

“No, but the team knows to stay away from that wrist. They don’t want it reinjured,” Adam said. “Do you want me to fix your tie for you, dear?”

Charlie rolled his eyes.

“Don’t remind me of them, please...Banksy.”

“Those fire ants were a great idea,” Adam laughed, ignoring the nickname he somewhat hated. “Thank goodness I didn’t live in the dorms.”

“I’m still sorry for not believing you,” Charlie apologized. “And for beating you to a pulp.”

“Oh, you did not beat me. If anything, it was a tie!”

The two grown men laughed, and Dwayne cleared his throat.

“Sorry,” Adam said, turning to his son.

“No, she’s not. Not breaking windows yet, anyway,” Dwayne answered.

“Oh, well, was that it?”

“No, but, uh, well…” Dwayne was playing with his fingers. His blonde hair was in disarray while his Math was on the floor of the living room. “Why didn’t you immediately force me into hockey? Or put me in a league or something?”

Adam knelt down to his son’s level as Charlie continued watching, still making dinner.

“We know how tough it can be. I injured my wrist once. I was thrown over someone’s back, pushed into the boards, to the ice. I was pushed into the goalpost headfirst and carted off to the hospital. Your father has had bad injuries, too,” Adam explained.

“In honesty, some of them were from your father when he was on the Hawks,” Charlie interrupted.

Adam rolled his eyes and continued, “Besides, we weren’t going to force you into playing hockey. You’ve grown up on going to our games, watching them on TV, having people around us wanting autographs…we wanted you to make the decision to play hockey.”

“You and Dad basically seem to only care about me, hockey and each other.”

Charlie laughed.

“Very true,” he said. “Well, and the other Ducks. Do you want to be in hockey?”

“Well, it would give me something to talk to Julie about,” Dwayne said, talking about his crush on Guy and Connie’s kid.

“Knew it,” Charlie sing songed. “Adam, you owe me ten bucks.”

“I do not like Julie.”

“Please, whenever she and her parents come for a visit from Colorado you get all excited and check your breath and blush and stuff,” Adam said, picking up his bag and going downstairs to put his stuff in the washer.

“We’ll put you in a league if you want,” Charlie said, finishing up cooking the spaghetti and putting it in a strainer. “You have to be a better player and skater, though.”

Dwayne was a fine hockey player. He played with his dads sometimes. He wanted to do hockey, he really did. He would even go as far to say he wanted to play in the pros like his dad one day. But that was a far way off, and he would need many more hours of more practice.

“Do what Bombay made Fulton do!” Adam shouted from the basement.

“What’d he make you do?” Dwayne asked.

“All of us original Ducks, without your father and Dwayne, Julie, Luis and Ken, with a few others you don’t know, all went to Mall of America with our roller blades and just rolled all around the mall, teaching Fulton how to skate, because he didn’t know how to,” Charlie answered.

“Don’t make me do that,” Dwayne pleaded as his eyes got wide.

“I won’t, don’t worry. Bombay might, though, if you’re not up to his standards of skating. Or tie you to the net if you’re not a good goalie.”

“Coach was really tough,” Adam said, coming back upstairs. “Not as tough as high school JV or even Varsity, though.”

“Well, that practice after the USA game was tough.”

“Don’t remind me. I almost fell asleep in tutoring the next day.”

Dwayne moved to the table as Charlie was putting down plates filled with pasta.

“Do you ever wish that you all stayed together? Went to the same college, played in the minors or NHL together?” Dwayne said, cutting up his pasta.

“Well, we certainly miss them,” Charlie said. “We miss them all the time. I wouldn’t necessarily say that I’d want to live with them all my life. I mean we each have to spread our wings and fly. No pun intended.”

“When’s the next time you’ll all be together, do you think?”

Charlie and Adam looked at each other.

“Soon, hopefully. Maybe one of us will have a big cookout and have a reunion or something. Play a little hockey for old times’ sake,” Adam answered.

“Original versus USA?” Charlie joked. “But, of course the Cake Eater would have to be on the USA team. Just because you put on the Duck jersey doesn’t mea you’re an original Duck.”

Adam rolled his eyes at the nickname and quote. Two decades later and his friends were still calling him that. Dwayne just looked at his parents. He had stopped wondering about their and the Ducks’ antics years ago.

“Russ will be on USA. His Knuckle Puck can be as deadly as Fulton’s,” the former Hawk said. “Anyway, we should probably put him in a league next year. Just let him get a little more hockey footing.”

“That sounds fine. Dwayne?” Charlie looked towards Dwayne. He was grateful that the guy he was named after never had sent a rope or roping lessons for the boy’s birthday. He didn’t want anything being broken around his house.

“Yeah,” Dwayne agreed. “It’s fine.”

“Great. Now, let’s get to this dinner before it gets cold.”

Dwayne was happy that he was going to be playing hockey. He was happy that he had two fathers who loved him unconditionally and would do anything for him. As he looked at his parents, who were joking and kidding around as if they were fifteen again, he couldn’t help but think that that could be him in a few years. That he’d find his soul mate through hockey. Maybe, maybe not. But hockey had definitely brought his parents and their closest friends together, so when he thought about being able to play in the local league the following year, he smiled.

I’ll be able to make my own memories soon, he thought as he fell asleep.


End file.
